


Distant

by squomsh



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, M/M, Suicide, Written for a Class
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-07-22 11:46:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7436902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squomsh/pseuds/squomsh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean sits on an old porch and tries to forget.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Distant

A cool breeze blew through the house, old wood creaking. The mustard polyester of Jean’s graduation robe fluttered, straining against his legs. Tall grass scratched at his bare feet where he had dug them into the loose dirt. He looked up at the sapphire sky, warm sunlight kissing his pale face. It was a beautiful day. The thought felt discordant with everything that had happened. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the worn steps, shoulders tensing.  _ Deep breaths, _ Marco’s distant voice instructed him. His heart twinged at the memory, but he focused on the words instead of the voice that spoke them.  _ In through the nose, out through the mouth. Just breathe, Jean. _ He started counting his breaths:  _ in, out, one; in, out, two...  _ Slowly, his muscles began to relax.

_ Pathetic _ , the barbed voice of his father spat, cutting through his thoughts and completely undoing the calm that had settled over his body. He curled in on himself, gritting his teeth. His hands clenched into fists, blunt nails digging into his palm.  _ You're nothing without that boy of yours. I don't know what he ever saw in you. You're weak, Jean.  _ A scream was bubbling up in Jean’s throat, but he choked it down, grinding his teeth so hard his jaw ached. His breath wheezed hotly through his flared nostrils.  _ No wonder he killed himself. Who'd want to be with someone like you? _

_ Thump. _

A dull pain throbbed in his already bruised knuckles. The wood beneath his fist groaned at the abuse. No. It wasn’t his fault. There was nothing he could have done. 

_ Do you really believe that? _

Jean growled, low in his throat. He could still see Marco, the way he'd found him that day, every time he closed his eyes. He was pale, much too pale. His freckles stood out like flecks of dirt on his white cheeks. Heavy dark circles lined his wide, bloodshot eyes. His left arm was bent awkwardly beneath him on the tile floor, the pill bottle still cradled loosely in his cold fingers. A white envelope lay trapped under his shoulder, slightly crumpled. Half of it was covered up, but Jean could tell it was his name written in Marco’s even scrawl. 

He’d reached for it, hands trembling. It hadn’t been sealed, so the letter slipped right out. It was written in black ink on lined paper torn out of a notebook. The edge of it was jagged, like it had been ripped out hastily.  _ Jean,  _ it read,  _ I'm sorry. I know this is probably unexpected. I tried, I really did. I wanted to be good enough for you. But I'm not. I'm poison, Jean. Sooner or later I'd just take you down too.  _

Jean shook his head to clear it of the memory. The cold wind bit at his cheeks, and he realized they had become wet with tears. He wiped them away with a jerk of his sleeve, chuckling bitterly to himself. 

“I really am pathetic,” he muttered. An ant crawled across his foot, and he watched it wander fitfully over his tendons. The sun had fallen low in the sky, painting the countryside a deep orange. His mother was bound to worry about him, but he wasn't ready to face his father just yet. He didn't really feel like moving, anyway. He stayed on the old porch, watching the shadows lengthening, stretching away from the fiery sky. 

**Author's Note:**

> This was an in-class assignment for creative writing that had to involve a high school grad, an old farmhouse porch, a fight, and injured pride. I honestly did not intend for it to be this heavy. Oh well. Wouldn't be a jeanmarco fic without someone dying, right? Ahaha...haha........ha. 
> 
> Anyways, hope you enjoyed it. :)


End file.
